What I would act like on stage |
I still do it, not act like an idiot in the back of a pickup, but make up songs. I can sing anything. You name it I have a song for it. For some reason, just about anything a person say to me or around me, makes me think of a song.
me totally cool playing the guitar |
me even cooler playing the drums |
Like if someone said, "I'll never get all this work done!" I'd sing, "I can't get this work done, but I don't care, because I have such pretty hair."
Now who wouldn't love that? An artist is never appreciated in his own town.
I write poems too. I wrote one about the accident when I lost my glasses and Connie her wig. It was called, "The Blind and The Bald".
Here is a poem I wrote about one of the hurricanes we had here in Florida.
Ode to Fay
Oh Fay, Oh Fay,
What can I say.
Should you come,
Or stay away?
stupid people out in the hurricane |
Your swirly whirlies in the sky,
Help us Lord!! WE’ER GOING TO DIE!!
Around and around you go,
Through the ocean to and fro.
One moment you’re in Aruba,
The next, blowing over Cuba.
On a path toward Florida State,
I’m glad a ONE is all you rate.
The rain it has already begun,
I do not think this will be fun.
they wouldn't have to tell me twice!
I’ll pack up my survival kit ,
I’ll call some friends and then we’ll sit.
And eat our cookies and potato chips,
Listen to the weatherman for tips.
None of us we will do what he said.
It won’t matter ‘cause we’ll all be dead!
So Fay, Fay what can I say,
If you do come, please don’t stay.
Just blow right through, take an hour,
But please, please don't take our power.
Please just go and don’t come back.
I’ll even come and help you pack.
the end
me doing a reading |
Now is that talent or what? Just imagine that as a song! But I'll not be deterred! I will carry on with my quest to sing about everything I hear. I can't help it. It's just in me.
And if you don't like it,
I don't care.
I'll do it anyway,
So there.
The End